


'cause you get lighter the more it gets dark

by transstevebucky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Camping, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, H/L Fireworks Fic Exchange, M/M, Marshmallows, Masturbation, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transstevebucky/pseuds/transstevebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis picks up Doris and tries not to focus on how much he’d love to be with Harry in ten years time, doing exactly this. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s difficult, but he’s been fighting it since he was ten years old and realised he was head over heels for the boy. It has, gradually, become part of his daily routine.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>1)  Pour the cereal and try not to burn the toast</i>
</p><p>
  <i>2) Try not to blurt out his never-ending love for Harry Styles</i>
</p><p>or, alternatively, Louis and Harry go camping with Doris and Ernest, and have a lot of feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'cause you get lighter the more it gets dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Larriesquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larriesquad/gifts).



> heyyy larriesquad, I really hope you like this ! I think I did what I could with the prompt (and I even gave you a bit of smut, just because you asked nicely :) -although I don't know who you prefer to bottom, I think it's fair to say that they kinda share that really;) i hope i didnt disappoint with that anyway!)
> 
> thanks to mikaela for betaing this at such short notice ur a lifesaver 
> 
> title is from coldplay's 'a sky full of stars'

_'cause you're a sky, you're a sky full of stars_  
_such a heavenly view_  
_you're such a heavenly view'_

_~a sky full of stars; Coldplay_

**_______________________________**

“Do sheep swell in the rain?”

Louis frowns in response to Harry’s question, hands stilling where he’s tapping out the beat to a song he’s never going to write. He can barely remember the tune even as he turns around to look his best friend in the eye.

Harry’s smiling, cheeks dimpled, the picture of a cherub if ever there was one. Louis truly hates how much he loves him. Especially since he’s not even _meant_ to. He’s always loved Harry, constantly and loudly, arms slinging over his shoulders and keeping him safe, jealousy churning in his gut any time Harry flirts with someone. It’s not fair to Harry, of course, because Harry’s not _his,_ is his own person and can do whatever he likes, especially since they’re not even dating.

 _And probably never will be,_ his mind supplies cheerily.

“Wouldn’t they shrink, like,” Louis flaps his hands around, “because of the wool?” It’s probably a ridiculous notion, but he’s spent eighteen years indulging the boy, and he refuses to stop now.

Of course, it turns out to be a bad idea, because suddenly Harry’s eyes light up like a beacon, rocking forward on his knees until he and Louis are only eight inches apart. If he wanted to, Louis could lean in and kiss him. He could get rid of the butterflies in his tummy, the blind hope humming behind his eyes, right now if he wanted to. He just doesn’t want to risk this, because Harry’s always going to be enough for him, even if they’re not together.

“I’ve got an amazing thought,” he begins, and Louis groans. Harry’s good ideas have been known to get them into trouble more than once. Not that Louis’s haven’t either, but. Harry’s good ideas are also notoriously boring.

Harry rolls his eyes before continuing, “You like camping, right?”

Louis feels a threat on the horizon and he narrows his eyes at Harry, trying to summon all of his willpower together so that he’ll be able to fight the urge to give Harry everything.

“I am,” he begins, and _fuck,_ he’s already giving in, “neutral towards camping.” It’s not the response he wanted to give; wasn’t firm enough, but. Harry is just blinking his eyelashes at Louis, all cherubic innocence, and honestly. Louis hates him, he really does.

Harry grins, bright and shining, dimples popping in his cheeks. Louis wants to kiss him and lick into his mouth, press his thumbs into the dimples and watch as his eyes go hazy. He wants so much to just be able to hold him down and tell him he’s beautiful, to fuck the breath out of him until he’s whining, and he’s not going to get it.

“How would you feel about going camping with me and the twins?”

Louis has a full speech planned out as to why that is a terrible idea, but then Harry just cocks his head to the side, curls bouncing, and all of the arguments fall out of his head.

“I’d go anywhere with you,” he says instead, embarrassingly enough.

Harry just blushes, shifting in his chair, and Louis thinks _maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all._

**_______________________________**

Jay is, at first, rather sceptical about the idea, and Louis almost weeps with pure joy. _Finally_ , he thinks, _an out_.

But then Harry, demon spawn that he is, pulls out the cow eyes, makes Doris mime punching him, and Jay relents.

“I hate you,” Louis mumbles, after Jay has said no to finding him a way out, “I don’t like you at all.”

“No, you might not,” Jay smirks, eyes bright, “but you adore Harry, and you don’t want to upset him.”

Louis tries to forget about that, hands already sorting through the pile of crap on his bed, trying to find clothing that’s suitable for camping. He’s got his joggers packed already, a couple of hoodies, a grey t-shirt.

“Harry,” he calls, and Harry stumbles back in the room from where he’d been helping Jay to pack for the twins, “my white shirt or my black shirt?”

“Black makes your eyes pop,” Harry responds, rocking back on his heels and grinning a bit wildly, “white makes your muscles look bigger.”

It takes Louis five whole minutes to stop turning pink at the idea of Harry even noticing.

**_______________________________**

Harry wakes Louis up early Friday morning by sitting on him.

It does nothing for the way Louis’s heart burns when he sees him (or the stiffy he’s sporting, if he’s being really honest) but Harry looks so beautiful and, no matter how much he tries to resist, he can’t force himself to turn over and go back to sleep.

He’d go to the end of the world for this boy, and he knows that that, at the very least, is mutual.

“Hey, baby,” Harry teases, poking at Louis’s ribcage, rocking where he’s sat on Louis’s tummy, “it’s a big day.”

Louis can barely concentrate on it being a big day; Harry is _so_ close to touching his cock that he thinks he could cry, and calling him _baby_ sure isn’t helping his hard on flag at all. He wishes that he had the right to touch Harry and make him whimper, to grind up against the boy’s arse and fluster him until he’s trembling, but he hasn’t. He hasn’t got that right because he and Harry _aren’t dating,_ no matter how much Louis wants to, no matter how many times Jay tells them they’re perfect for each other.

Louis is fine with this, just this staring and smiling and waking up next to each other, side still warm from where Harry had been curled around him. He is. He just… also really needs a wank.

He could probably _kill_ for a wank, right now.

“Hey, love,” he mumbles, and Harry smiles, eyes twinkling (fucking _twinkling_. Louis has been friends with Harry since Louis was five and Harry was three, and in all those eighteen years of friendship he still cannot understand how Harry _constantly_ looks like a Disney princess), “good morning.”

Harry smirks, suddenly, and Louis feels his throat tighten when Harry fucking _rocks back_ against Louis’s hard cock, eyes locking with Louis’s.

“Um, H,” he chokes out, barely holding himself back from pulling one off right on Harry’s exposed tummy, “I’ve got a bit of. Um.”

“Morning wood?” Harry asks innocently, cocking his head to the side like that’s a foreign concept. Harry is a fucking alien and for some reason unbeknownst to him, Louis is ridiculously in love with him.

“Yes,” Louis hisses, eyes squinting closed as he searches for will power he does not have, “and if you don’t want to make our friendship really weird, it would be better if you didn’t touch it ever.”

Harry smirks, honest to God _smirks,_ and presses his hand down onto Louis’s cock. Louis lets out an (extremely manly, if anyone asks) shriek, and pushes Harry off of him, praying to every single God that has ever existed that Harry didn’t feel the way his cock had twitched to meet his hand.

“What the _fuck,_ Harry!” He yelps, staring at the now-cackling boy with wide eyes.

Thing is, it shouldn’t turn him on so much. Harry touching him also shouldn’t burn through his skin the way it always does, but. Harry is probably evil, or something. It genuinely wouldn’t shock Louis to discover that Harry is the son of the Devil himself.

“You liked it!” Harry grins, mouth tilting to the right, eyes glistening with tears of laughter. Louis absolutely, one hundred percent hates him.

He thinks about agreeing, for one wild second, about just saying ‘you’re right! I did like it! Because I am in love with you!’, but it passes as soon as it comes. He knows better than to destroy what he has with Harry; this calm, happy and light friendship that somehow wriggled under his ribs and his bones. His love for Harry will only destroy what they have, he knows this. He just wishes it weren’t so difficult to ignore.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls instead, and thinks _well done, you resisted him,_ “you’re a child and I hate you.”

Harry just grins, teeth popping out over his plump bottom lip, and Louis relents. He sinks to his knees, apologises for being rude, and shimmies away to the bathroom before Harry can say anything besides “have fun with that!”

Really, he has no idea why he keeps him around.

**_______________________________**

**  
** Louis is just hopping down from the kitchen side when Doris and Ernie both toddle down the stairs, faces red from their baths. Their eyes are bright, little mouths turned up at the corners, and Louis wants to _scream_ at the way Harry completely lights up, whole body fizzing with energy when they emerge.

Harry is too sweet, too kind, should not be allowed to love taking care of kids this much. The fact he spent eighty percent of his childhood around Louis’s house probably started it, to be fair, but it’s so _cruel_ to just put Louis in this position where he is surrounded by three of the most important people in his life. (He wouldn’t let his mum or his other sisters hear that, but it’s true all the same).

Louis is a sucker for a boy who loves kids. Well, truth be told, Louis is a sucker for _Harry_ and everything he encompasses, from his curly shoulder-length hair to his pigeon-toed feet. (His _too large_ pigeon-toed feet, and. It turns out what they say about feet is true. Not that Louis has looked, or anything.)

“How’s it going, little ones?” The boy in question cooes, tickling Ernie’s tummy as he flaps his arms around, trying in vain to get Harry to stop.

Louis picks up Doris and tries not to focus on how much he’d love to be with Harry in ten years time, doing exactly this. It’s difficult, but he’s been fighting it since he was ten years old and realised he was head over heels for the boy. It has, gradually, become part of his daily routine.

1)      Pour the cereal and try not to burn the toast

2)      Try not to blurt out his never-ending love for Harry Styles

“Hey, Dory,” Louis grins, pressing his lips to Doris’s cheek until she tells him ‘Stop, Louis! No!’ and he pulls away and crosses his eyes, “how was your bath?”

Doris scrunches up her nose, eyes focused on her own nose, little mouth pouted in thought. She is actually the cutest toddler in the entire world.

“Warm,” she finally settles on, “mummy forgot to turn the cold tap on for ages!”

Louis gasps dramatically, turning towards his mother with one hand on his hip, “What kind of mum are you?”

Jay cocks one eyebrow and opens her mouth to speak, but Louis just rushes out a quick apology. Louis got his sharp wit from his mum, and getting on her bad side has never been one of his highest priorities, if he’s being honest.

He quickly turns to Harry, instead, pushing down the sudden flare of fondness that tears through his belly at the sight of Harry and Ernest playing patty cake.

“We should get going, right, Haz?” Harry turns to him, nodding, and grabs the clothing bag for the twins from Jay’s shoulder.

“Have them back by Sunday evening, okay? They’ve got a tour for their school on Monday morning, so we’ll need time to get them settled back in.”

Harry presses a gentle kiss to Jay’s kiss before leading both of the twins outside, Doris having scrambled down from Louis’s shoulders side whilst he hadn’t really been paying attention.

Louis turns to his mum, smiling at her, before she says, “Make sure to be safe, okay?” And his smile drops into a disgruntled frown.

“We’re just _friends,”_ He whines, indignant (mostly because it’s so frustrating to explain it when he doesn’t want to, doesn’t want the words to have any meaning. He just wants to be dating Harry, is that too much to ask?), “and I am leaving now, goodbye. You are never getting your children back.”

Jay laughs, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, “By the looks of Harry with the both of them, I’m sure that’s true.”

Louis wrinkles his nose, but can’t help but agree. Everyone loves Harry; it’s something Louis has long since come to terms with by now.

**_______________________________**

The drive to the forest Harry wants to camp in is, thankfully, not a particularly long one. Harry is sat in the back with the twins, Doris’s hand in his own and Ernest playing with a Rubix cube that Louis is _almost_ sure he won’t be able to solve.

He hopes, anyway. He hates being outdone by children.

By the time they park up, Doris is starting to get antsy, whining about how she needs the loo and has to go “right now, Uncle Harry!” Louis has never been so thankful that Harry actually plans ahead and makes sure that they’re camping close to an open-all-hours community centre. Had Louis been going camping alone with the twins (which he would never do, because he loves both himself and his family), he would have completely forgotten about planning in depth. He tends to do things spontaneously, and it always ends up biting him in the arse.

“Okay, baby, we’re going to go to the toilets now, okay?” Harry says, rapidly unhooking Doris from her booster seat as she squirms, face desperate, still managing to look slightly exasperated. She is without a doubt a Tomlinson.

“I’m not a baby,” she whines, petulant, “I’m going to big school in September. You’re a baby.”

Louis snorts, high fiving her as Harry rushes off with her to the loos, and turns to his younger brother.

Ernest is swaying in place, chubby cheeks pink with happiness. He’s _adorable_. Louis can definitely see why Harry is so enamoured. Well, he’s just as enamoured, if not more (they are his siblings, after all), but. Harry being so in love with everything makes Louis a bit more eager to be excited by everything. Of course, Harry being involved makes Louis predetermined to be earnest anyway, but. It’s the thought that counts, regardless.

“How’s it goin’, Ernie?” He asks, scooping the tiny boy into his arms. He’s heavier than he once was, slowly growing up. It’s slightly terrifying to Louis that he doesn’t see it; that all of this changes without his constant supervision.

Ernie grins, eyes sparkling, starts rambling about Harry and how great he is, about how the road had been a bit bumpy, about how much he loves Harry. Louis can relate a bit too much, if he’s being honest.

A couple of minutes later Harry re-emerges, saying something to Doris that sounds like praise from this far of a distance, and Louis sits down on all of the bags he’s just unpacked out of the boot. Louis had convinced Harry to bring an inflatable mattress, too aware of how dodgy Harry’s back gets to be persuaded otherwise. He would regret it (it’s so absurdly heavy), but seeing the twinkle in Harry’s eye when he spots the box and nods, he thinks he can handle it.

“You ready to camp?” Harry asks, hand resting on Louis’s hip like he isn’t burning through Louis’s clothes. Like every single touch doesn’t have Louis wanting to climb the walls.

Louis feels his breath hitch in his throat, but would rather do anything than acknowledge it, so he just pulls Ernest up onto his shoulders, grabs a couple bags and nods.

It’s going to be a long weekend.

 

**_______________________________**

An hour and a half later, Louis is ready to collapse onto his knees and burrow into the ground. It’s just. It should not be legal to look so hot when setting up a tent. Harry should not be able to pull everything off. It just shouldn’t be allowed.

They’d finished fairly fast, thank God, because the sky looks like it’s ready to open up. Probably to punish Louis for all of the sinful things running through his head as Harry crawls over him. If he were younger just this action would be enough to get him hard. But he is an Adult now, an adult who takes his youngest siblings on camping trips and has a steady job at a playgroup for under five’s.

Still. It doesn’t make the fact Harry’s face is covered in dirt and sweat any more moot. He is still absurdly fit. Louis would, quite happily, just die.

“The twins are in their pod sorting out their bedding, so we should probably do the same,” Harry mumbles, but he’s got his eyes closed. He’s so, so lovely, cherubic and beautiful and _so much,_ and Louis just wants so badly it hurts in his chest.

The sound of the twins giggling on the other side of the tent makes Louis’s chest hurt. There is nothing that Louis wants more than to do this for the next one hundred years with Harry.

He strokes at Harry’s side anyway, smile quirking at his lips when Harry groans in contentment. He lets himself believe, for a second, that Harry is his. That this is just another day and it’s not off limits to press his hands into Harry’s back, to sit on top of him and massage him until he’s hard.

But it is, so he sits up, rubs his eyes, and reaches to the pack of bedding.

And only finds one sleeping bag.

Louis’s eyes widen, hoping that there’s another one in there somewhere, that he’s not going to have to go back to his mum’s house and find another sleeping bag.

There isn’t one. Harry only packed one sleeping bag.

“Harry,” he whines, shoving at Harry’s side and holding back a smile as he grunts in annoyance, “there’s only one sleeping bag.”

Harry blinks up at him, green eyes framed by pretty eyelashes. He opens his mouth a couple times before he bites on his lip.

“Shit, sorry, I must have forgotten the other one,” he looks remorseful, but there’s a flash of something on his face Louis can’t quite catch, before he continues on, “what do you want to do?”

Louis frowns, tugging at the sleeping bag in his hands. It’s not _tiny,_ really, and Harry curls up when he sleeps, preferring to be the little spoon. He doesn’t want to drive all the way back to his mum’s house, and also. There’s a tiny part of Louis’s brain that’s chanting _maybe maybe maybe_ , promising him that if he just so happens to wake up hard tomorrow morning Harry will like it. He thinks of this morning, when Harry had ground his hips down, and tries not to flush.

“I don’t want to drive back to me mum’s,” he settles on, a tiny grain of guilt fizzing in his tummy, the reason why a little selfish “and it’s not like we haven’t shared before, right?”

Harry’s watching him, unfathomable expression on his face, before he breaks into a smile and nods.

“I always like being the little spoon,” he agrees, “and I know you don’t like driving in the rain.”

Louis grins, inhaling the smell of the outdoors and old tent, the reminder that Harry knows almost everything about Louis sending something warm up his spine. It feels a lot like love, and it probably is. It normally is.

They set out the bed, pillows first and then the one sleeping bag. It looks really, really cozy. Louis’s tummy burns with the thought that he’s going to be pressed against Harry tonight.

When they finish, they both crawl into Doris and Ernie’s smaller pod, both crinkling their eyes in a grin when they see they’re slowly dozing off. They’re toddlers, so they don’t sleep as much anymore, but Louis is guessing they didn’t sleep as well as they should have last night. They’re easily excitable; it’s definitely part of the reason Louis loves them so much. Doris snuffles and grips onto Ernest’s side, and it takes all of Louis’s willpower to not coo at the both of them.

Louis covers them both with a light blanket and they stumble outside after zipping the tent closed.

They can’t go far, not when they’re sleeping, but they can’t stay too close in case they wake them.

Harry suggests they start setting up a campfire, considering that it’s three by now and the twins will be hungry once they wake up. They both search around for dry wood, bits of kindling and thicker branches, and once they’ve gotten a sizeable amount they start building it up a bit, both of them giggling when they hear a snore coming from the tent. It’s not hilarious, but there’s something about having to be quiet that makes everything a bit funnier, a bit more intense.

“Ah, shit,” Harry mutters, sticks falling out of his hands (despite the fact he has Sasquatch paws and nothing should be able to escape them).

Louis almost drops his kindling when Harry gets on his knees in front of him, face absurdly close to Louis’s crotch. He has to hold his breath and count to ten in his head whilst Harry rises back up to his full height, smiling like nothing just happened.

Harry is definitely terrible and evil and the worst thing that has ever, ever happened to Louis. But he’s also so, so beautiful and Louis would give this up for nothing else.

“You got a lighter? Or a flint and steel?” Harry asks, nudging Louis’s hip with his own, and Louis scrabbles in his pocket for his flint and steel.

He’s owned one ever since he and Harry went to Scouts together (a quickly aborted mission from their mothers to make sure they socialized with other people once a week when they were fourteen), and it’s old but it hasn’t been used often.

He jabs the end of the flint stick into the cotton ball they’ve placed at the bottom of the pyramid of sticks and scrapes down, excitement flaring up in his abdomen when sparks ignite the soft ball. He’s always been pretty good at this kind of stuff; even if he’s never particularly enjoyed it, and Harry grins giddily at him as the flames start burning the smaller pieces of kindling.

“You’re so talented, babe,” Harry grins, eyes twinkling.

Louis rolls his eyes, trying to tamp down the part of him that wants to kiss Harry, which always wants to touch Harry. He loves this ridiculous boy so, so much. He’s so happy he moved to London with him on a whim, and that they’re both doing well enough that the rent is rarely a struggle.

He’s so happy that he gets to have Harry like this, even if it’s not exactly as he’d wish it.

“You’re a dork,” Louis huffs, “and we should probably check on the twins. They’re moving a bit now.”

Harry nods, pressing his hand to the centre of Louis’s back as they make their way to the tent, and Louis barely suppresses a shudder. Harry’s touch always scalds him, leaves his skin tingling like he’s just had a particularly hot shower, and he wishes that he didn’t know the reason. He wishes he could be oblivious as to why, so he wasn’t constantly thinking about it.

Ernest and Doris are awake, as it turns out, and the second Harry unzips the tent they both start complaining about how hungry they are, so Louis goes through the food bag to grab something that doesn’t need to be cooked.

When he finds a pack of sandwiches, he passes the over to the twins as they scarf them down (Doris tries to recount a dream she had whilst she was napping, but every time she opens her mouth Louis tells her off for it, so she gives up).

His whole left side feels like it’s on fire, Harry pressed up against him from thigh to shoulder, and he really doesn’t need to be turned on right now, it is _so_ inappropriate, but that wank didn’t really soothe him and he’s tired, and. His cock just reacts to Harry, okay? It Knows.

“So, Ernie,” Louis says, faking a smile (because the alternative is giving way to his arousal, and like. He literally cannot do that.) “You asked about a fire last night, and we’ve got one going!”

Ernest pokes his head up from his sandwich at that, grin taking over his face.

“Marshmallows and everything?” He asks, full of awe (As if Louis hasn’t burned one thousand marshmallows for him in Jay’s fireplace before, the ungrateful child).

“Marshmallows and everything. All in the food bag. It’s getting late, now, so if you both want to burn some ‘mallows…” Harry says, whilst still nodding along to a story Doris has managed to get out without Louis noticing her terrible manners.

Doris and Ernie both scramble out, knocking their sandwiches onto their sleeping bags, and Louis grunts. He’s going to have to clean that, he knows it. His mum will never let him off.

“Are the marshmallows going to be bigger than their mouths, Harry?” Louis asks, draping himself over the other boy’s back and hoping he will be kind enough to just carry him everywhere he wishes to go.

Harry laughs; rough like his throat’s gotten fucked and. Jesus. Louis can’t handle this. He can feel heat stirring in his groin, and he desperately thinks of anything else except this. Anything except for the way Harry is now holding him bridal style, having swung Louis over his shoulder like he weighs nothing.

But as always, the only thing that comes to his mind is _Harry,_ beautiful Harry with the too big smile and crater-like dimples, evergreen eyes and harsh laugh. Voice low and syrupy like he’s just had the breath fucked out of him, like he’s –nope. No. There are children around. Louis is despicable and should be in jail. (Anything to stop this eternal pain and heartache.) (Anything to stop the way his cock’s hardening up in his jeans, wriggling desperately in Harry’s arms so he won’t notice it.)

He doesn’t, thank God, or at least he doesn’t say anything if he does. He just drops Louis into a camping chair and settles into one of his own, bringing marshmallows and cocktail sticks out of God knows where and waving them merrily at the kid’s faces, like they can’t tell what it is.

Doris tells him off, for that, and Louis has to stifle a giggle into the back of his hand, ignoring the glare Harry throws over his shoulder as he expertly spears the marshmallow and hands it to Louis’s tiniest sister.

He gives the other one to Ernest, next, before he leans closer to the fire himself. Louis has to swallow at the way his shirt drifts up, exposing his pudgy love handles. Louis wants to leave fingerprint bruises in the soft skin, kiss bites into his thighs, and fuck him until he can’t string together a coherent sentence.

Louis needs to calm the fuck down, immediately.

“I have to go to the loo,” he declares, rising to his feet, “do either of you littl’uns wanna come with?” _Please say no please say no please say no._

They shake their heads and Harry grins at him, and Louis doesn’t even bother to tell him his marshmallow’s on fire. He deserves it, or something.

The walk back to the community centre is an awkward one spent with his hand adjusting himself every five seconds. He doesn’t get it. Why can’t he just calm down, why does he have to be this way around Harry? He’s known Harry since he was three years old. He should be used to the way the boy smiles and the fact he’s otherworldly beautiful. Louis should not be this affected by him.

Thank God, he manages to get to the toilets without a struggle, no one around to see him in this debauched state, and he locks himself in the toilet stall with a huff of air that he hopes won’t be caught on the camera outside the door.

He looks himself in the mirror, biting his lip at what he sees. There’s red flushed up his cheeks, like he’s already been fucked, hair a mess from where he’d been running his fingers through it whilst Harry had sorted out the marshmallows, and.

This was only going to go one way, really.

He closes his eyes as he unzips his trousers, vaguely ashamed that he’s doing this whilst Harry is looking after their children.

Except. Except they’re not. They’re Louis’ siblings. They’re not he and Harry’s children. He and Harry aren’t together. Will probably never be together. There will always be a vague hope thrumming underneath his skin that Harry feels the same way and that he’s as scared as Louis is to ruin what they already have. He can’t stop that.

But he needs to stop thinking of raising kids with Harry, of this being some sort of practice run. It’s not practice for anything except how fast Louis can make himself hard with the thought of years of monogamy with his best friend.

He’s leaking in his hand, now, not even moving but so turned on at the thought of being with Harry that he’s trembling. He circles the tip and slides some of the pre come back down to make the slide easier, leaning his head against the wall when he reaches the base. It’s so hot, so so fucking hot.

He just wants Harry’s hands on him.

Before he knows it, he’s thinking of Harry touching him, touching himself as he sucks him off, begging him to come. Harry on his knees, begging to be good for him. Louis pressed against the mattress shaking with the fingers moving in and out of him. Thinking of getting caught by one of the lads and only becoming needier because of it. His breath shortens and he starts whining, trying to reach his release sooner rather than later. Harry will come looking for him soon, and he’d find Louis like this and-

That’s what does it. He comes all over his hand with a high pitched moan of Harry’s name that he would be ashamed of if he wasn’t alone. Well, like. He’s still ashamed now, but it would definitely be worse if Harry heard him, or anyone else for that matter. He doesn’t need Ernest asking him what those noises mean.

He wipes himself off quickly, splashing himself with water and glancing into the mirror. His face is still pink, but it’s fast leaving, and his lip is bitten raw (he hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it, which is only slightly disturbing.)

Louis scrubs his hands off twice before the smell of his come leaves the skin, and he brushes them off on his jeans on the way out.

The walk back is a lot easier, although his legs still feel a bit wobbly from how hard he came to the thought of his best mate.

“Louuuu,” Harry giggles, marshmallow covering his lips in white and holy fucking lord above. Why does the universe loathe every part of his being? Surely he can’t deserve this. “We’re going to end up eating them all in a minute.”

“Sorry, baby,” Louis responds, before tensing. Shit. Shit shit shit. He hadn’t meant to say it; he’s still in the fuzzy state after coming, he can’t be expected to just act human.

Harry’s face only lights up, a pretty flush making its way onto his cheeks, eyes going a bit hazy for a second before he snaps back to attention.

Louis is going to die. Harry is so beautiful that Louis is going to actually, properly collapse on the spot. He hopes his mum will tell Harry at the funeral; that she won’t be a traitor and never let him know. (And also that it won’t sully Harry’s memories of him).

“Does that make Harry your baby?” Ernest asks, scrambling to sit on Louis’s lap, eyes eager. Somehow, he knows that this isn’t something Louis wants broadcasted to the world. He has the smartest toddler siblings in the world.

“He’ll always be my baby,” Louis confirms, though the bitter voice in his head is chanting _no he’s not, you know he’s not!_

Harry is snuggling up with Doris, burning marshmallows and watching the flames dance across his face.

Louis misses the wistful look that crosses Harry’s eyes, but he doesn’t miss Harry telling Doris that she has the best big brother in the world.

**_______________________________**

It starts to rain just as darkness swallows them, so they all decide to go to bed. It’s already nine, which is pretty early for Louis (and Harry) but they both agree that setting a good example is the best plan. Also, Jay would lynch them if they kept them up until midnight.

The last flames of the fire get snuffed out just as Harry and Louis are tucking the (very tired but stubborn) twins into their (wiped down, sandwich residue-free) sleeping bags. Doris is complaining loudly that she needs to stay awake just to be able to see the rain, which is something Louis is one hundred percent sure she gets from Harry.

They both strip off after they get into their own pod, Louis pointedly staring at the wall of the tent whilst Harry grunts to himself. If he focuses on the twins snuffling their way into sleep in the next pod over, he won’t focus on the way Harry’s cock is bulging the front of his tight boxers.

He slides into the sleeping bag after Harry, and Harry turns towards him with a smile. He feels his own breath hitch as Harry cuddles up under Louis’s chin, and he just blindly hopes that Harry can’t feel his heart rabbitting, that he doesn’t Know.

“I liked tonight,” he mumbles, his breath puffing against Louis’s neck as he speaks, “I love the twins.”

“And what about me?” Louis asks, like he doesn’t know the answer, like he doesn’t know that it’s going to be platonic and not how Louis means it at all.

Harry giggles against his neck, little bursts of happiness, and Louis wants nothing more than to give that to Harry always. Being able to make Harry laugh has always felt like the kind of achievement his mum would be proud of him for. Making Harry laugh is the kind of achievement that leaves him full of pride and excitement.

“Love you most always,” He responds, and Louis’s tummy seizes up when he drags his lips up his neck for a moment, “you’re so important, Lou.”

Louis nods shakily, mumbling assent into Harry’s curls, feeling like his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s no way that Harry can’t feel it, but if he asks Louis’ll just have to make up some shitty excuse about being worried about the rain destroying the tent, or something.

Harry turns around a few moments later, anyway, so no one has to see the way his face clenches up as he tries not to cry. It’s fine. He’s fine.

**_______________________________**

The first thing he becomes aware of when he wakes up a good few hours later is that it’s starting the get light outside. It’s not light enough to warrant waking up, but he can make out some various shapes in the dark, so.

The second thing he notices is that he’s hard in his boxers, tummy crawling with heat as he tries to stop himself rocking forward into Harry’s body. He can’t remember what he was dreaming of barely two minutes ago, but it must have been something a bit hot.

Without even thinking, he grinds forwards a couple of times, Harry’s back pressed to his front so firmly that even that slight movement has his tummy twisting with warmth. He’s leaked through his boxers, he already knows, can feel his boxers sticking to him, and the only hope he has left is that it hasn’t leaked through Harry’s boxers.

He closes his eyes tightly, trying desperately to not think of it, to focus on the gradually lightening tent rather than his dick, but it’s hopeless.

He can’t wake up without waking Harry up and risk awkwardness, and he hasn’t got enough room to rub one out right here. He wouldn’t, anyway, because that’s wrong and awful on so many levels (his siblings are just next to him, through a sheet, and although they’re absurdly heavy sleepers for toddlers he also doesn’t want to wake them).  Not to mention he’d be doing it without Harry’s spoken consent, and he’s not like that. He doesn’t do that.

He just balls his fists and tries to get back to sleep, breathing ragged and cock throbbing desperately between his legs, begging him to just pay attention to it. But he is stronger than that. He is not driven by his dick. He is a strong adult who can deal without rubbing one out to his best friend. He might have done it yesterday, but he’s changed since then. Louis Tomlinson is a New Man™.

And then Harry starts rocking back. Not even tiny increments, just rolling his hips back firmly like he knows, like he’s awake, like he can feel it and he wants it.

 _It’s nothing. He’s probably just turned on from the proximity. That’s it. He’s not into me. It’s fine._ He tells himself, trying to continue to sleep, hoping with all of his might that Harry stops doing this to him. Maybe he’s just teasing. Maybe he’s awake like yesterday and he’s just mocking Louis on his weakness.

That’s it. That has to be it. The alternative is that Harry likes this, and Louis’s so overwhelmed by that thought alone he can barely stomach it. It makes his cock twitch, though, and then Harry whines.

He fucking mewls, and Louis can suddenly hear how jagged Harry’s breathing is, desperate and needy, like the one time that they jerked off together. Louis still wanks to that to this day, and it was four _years_ ago.

“Lou, please,” a voice mumbles, and Louis freezes, terrified that somehow the twins have found out and are chastising him, even though he hasn’t done anything. “Please, please move. Please fucking move.”

It’s Harry. Harry’s awake, and. He wants Harry to grind against him.

“What the fuck,” he settles on, because his mind is spinning and his cock keeps twitching every time Harry’s body even shudders with a _breath_ , “do you mean?”

Harry turns around, suddenly, so fast that the sleeping bag barely has time to rustle, and his eyes are so blown that Louis can see them even in this light. He’s panting, and Louis feels his own breath catch in his throat in response.

“Louis, I want it, please,” He gasps, and Louis does the only thing he can think of and presses forward.

Harry’s lips are slick, and soft, and it makes Louis moan so loud that Harry’s hand clamps on his waist.

“Don’t wake the twins, you eejit,” he mumbles, before catching Louis’s lip between his teeth and biting.

Louis has always considered himself dominating. He’s always imagined doing the fucking as opposed to being fucked; having his fingers inside of himself is nice, sure, but it’s not amazing, and he’s never been into it enough to try harder.

He thinks he could be convinced to change his ways.

Harry’s tongue is slick against Louis’s own, and Louis’ chest is heaving. The one thing that he’s wanted since he realised he was in love with this boy, and he’s getting it. Finally.

He hopes that this isn’t nothing to Harry, that it isn’t convenient. That this is just going to be the beginning. He doesn’t think he could cope with knowing he’s going to get this once. He’d rather not have it at all than have the awkward silences and the hope, and the heart ache that comes with it.

He pulls away, suddenly, because the thought of it makes him feel a bit ill.

“Harry,” He mumbles, hand gripping at Harry’s squidgy hips, and he just. Wants to touch this boy everywhere, but he needs to know. “Harry, wait.”

“Lou?” Harry blinks at him, looking suddenly wary, and God. Louis really hopes he hasn’t got this wrong.

“This isn’t a one time thing, right?” He breathes, squeezing his eyes shut because he can’t bear to look at the boy right now. He doesn’t think he could handle looking at him in the eye whilst he’s shot down. “Because, I just. I love you. I’m in love with you. I don’t want this to be a onetime thing. But if that’s all this is for you, I can leave it alone, act like this never-”

Harry’s mouth meets his, suddenly, harsh and biting, and oh. Harry’s hand crawls towards Louis’s crotch, rolling the heel of it down until Louis’s biting back noises.

“Baby, no,” Harry pants, hips rolling down. It can’t be comfortable; he’s rolling down onto the back of his own hand, but it’s _hot._ “I’m in love with you, too. I’ve been waiting for you to make a move, and I figured leaving the second sleeping bag was a good move to prompt it.”

Louis blinks, completely amazed. Harry had done it on purpose. He’d left the sleeping bag to get Louis hard. He’s in love with Louis.

“This is a bit much,” Louis admits, and Harry muffles his giggles into Louis’s throat as he palms Louis over his damp boxers, “I don’t.”

“Don’t think,” Harry mumbles, before sucking a love bite into Louis’s neck. Louis has always had a soft spot for love bites; Harry was the first person Louis ever told about his affinity for them, and apparently he hasn’t forgotten. He _definitely_ hasn’t forgotten, actually, if the way he moans as he does it is any show.

Louis grunts, fingers kneading into the squishy part of Harry’s hips, because _Christ._ He wants to suck on them and fuck him from behind and then get eaten out when Harry’s still orgasm hazy.

“I want to make you come,” Harry whispers, pulling away from the throbbing spot on Louis’s neck. “You look so pretty when you come.”

“I’ve changed since then,” Louis mumbles back, hoarse. The only way he knows how to handle this is teasing. This is too much for him to cope with right now.

“You’re even prettier now, that is true,” Harry replies, smirking, before he shimmies down in the sleeping bag.

He’s going to suck his cock. Harry is going to put his mouth on Louis’s cock and Louis is going to cry and then Harry will change his mind about being in love with him. Louis is going to almost get to be with Harry and then Harry will leave him forever and talk to all of the new and less embarrassing friends he will make once he leaves him and he will fall in love with someone who doesn’t even look like Louis.

Harry mouths at Louis’s cock at the same time that Louis is about to fall into an emotional abyss of self loathing, and really. He shouldn’t have been worried. Harry’s mouth is too good to do anything except for put his fingers in his hair and push.

“Your cock’s so pretty,” Harry mumbles, and Louis shoves the sleeping bag down. Fuck it. It’s too hot under it, anyway. Plus he’d never live it down if he got come stains on his mum’s sleeping bag.

Harry’s mouthing at his cock, now, Louis’s pants around his ankles, which would cause him to worry about being unsexy if not for the way that Harry is rolling his hips down into the inflatable mattress like this is the hottest thing he’s ever done.

“Good boy, kitten,” Louis mumbles, tugging on Harry’s hair, and he has to sink down absurdly fast to muffle his high pitched moan, and Louis’s eyes widen. So; Harry likes it to hurt a bit. That’s… good to know.  

Louis’s cock hits the back of the throat and Harry _moans_ around it, like he likes being throat fucked, like he likes to have his breathing restricted and holy shit. Holy fucking shit. He’s humming around his cock, not even gagging and.

Louis comes down Harry’s throat, biting down on his own arm to somewhat muffle his cry of eagerness. He might be dying. Who knows? There are definitely stars where there shouldn’t be stars, regardless. Harry sucks around him until Louis’s aching from oversensitivity and his muscles are so loose he feels like he might sink through the rubber mattress.

It takes him half a minute to realise that he can’t not return the favour; he’s not a fucking animal, after all.

“Geddup,” he instructs, and suddenly Harry looks shy. The fact that Louis can see his shyness in this terrible morning light is making him a bit more aroused, but. He can’t come before Harry does.

“I um,” Harry mumbles, “I already came? Like when you were thrusting up a bit, I.” His voice is _so hoarse,_ and Harry likes it. Harry likes having his throat fucked and really, how did Louis not know?

He’s heard Harry after enough night outs to have figured this out by himself already, but. Seeing it in practice and knowing that he _came_ from it, from making Louis feel good. It’s a little much.

“Oh fuck,” Louis mutters, making grabby hands at the boy between his legs, “kiss me, Jesus, you’re so hot.”

Harry smiles, wriggles up Louis’s body, and sucks Louis’s tongue into his mouth without thought. Louis can taste himself on Harry’s tongue, and it’s probably a bit narcissistic to love the taste, but. He’s tasting it off of _Harry,_ Harry who he’s been in love with for years, who loves him back.

He kisses him back with as much as he has to offer, tongue sliding against his, Louis’s still half-hard cock rubbing against Harry’s _soaked_ boxers, and Harry pants, grinding slowly. It’s hot, and it’s overwhelming, and it’s so much to know that this isn’t just a onetime thing. That Harry loves him. Harry _loves_ him. Louis cannot believe he gets off on monogamy.

When Harry freezes and jerks on top of him, though, Louis frowns.

“What’s wrong?” He mumbles, and Harry chokes out a harsh breath as he suddenly buries his face in Louis’s neck.

“Oh, fuck, I just,” he moans into Louis’s throat, sending buzzing up Louis’s spine, “I came again, fuck I’m _sorry,_ I wanted to make you come more than once.”

Louis gapes, eyes wide as he looks down at the sweaty mess of a boy in front of him. He can feel the come leaking out onto his own tummy, can feel how hard Harry must have came, how much Louis got him off just from fucking his mouth.

“We’re going to leave as soon as we wake up tomorrow,” he decides, lifting Harry’s head up and kissing him to show that it’s fine, it’s so much more than fine, “because I need to go back to London and have you fuck me into the sheets.”

Harry hurriedly nods before kissing him again, and when they both fall asleep still covered in come, Louis decides that he’s never going to let Harry be embarrassed about coming again.

**_______________________________**

 

They're in London by noon. Neither of them are proud of it, but if Louis gives Harry a hand job over the console, nobody has to know but them and the tacky leather seating.

**_______________________________**

Deleted Scene:

“Sheep don’t shrink in the rain, by the way,” Harry gasps out, his hands on Louis’s hips as Louis rides him, “and neither does my boner for you.”

Louis comes whilst laughing, Harry grinning up at him through tear soaked eyelashes.

Neither of them know how they got so lucky.

**_______________________________**

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was sooo fun to write, and that is ENTIRELY down to the very flexible prompt 'A super domestic fic where H&L take Louis' little siblings camping for a couple days. And like Doris and Ernest are maybe 5 or so. It's great baby practice for when they have their own kids.' 
> 
> I changed it up a bit (as in they're not together) because I don't know how to write relationships successfully as an aro person. and doris and ernest are 3 or thereabouts
> 
>  
> 
> [rebloggable fic post](http://arohug.tumblr.com/post/126130417111/cause-you-get-lighter-the-more-it-gets-dark-word) | [tumblr](http://arohug.tumblr.com)


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